


One Star less

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Series: First steps [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, HoME version of Losgar events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly about burning ships in Losgar according to "The Peoples of Middle-Earth"</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Star less

**Author's Note:**

> This is translation of my story written originally in Polish. Just a little angsty one-shot.

**One star less**

 

                Who would have thought there would be so much smoke? The swan ships of Teleri burned the whole night, the glow was blinding, the smoke covered their camp at the seashore and  irritated eyes. The flames went high, the dry wood cracked, the paints fell to the water in miserable splinters. The most beautiful ships on Arda one after another turned into ashes and disappeared in water.

                Maitimo turned back to the seashore as soon as the first flames brightened the sky. He never thought his father would actually take such drastic actions, but Kano dispelled his doubts and stopped him before he reached Feanaro.

                “Leave it, you won’t achieve anything,” the singer just shook his head.

                “Who went with him?”

                “Curufinwe. Tyelko. Who else, I don’t know.” Makalaure stared grimly at the fire.

                So father took only few most trusted elves with him. The fact that among his own sons he had risen just one put their whole relationship in question.

                “Tyelpinquar?” Nelyafinwe glanced around nervously looking for his nephew, but the boy slept peacefully between their luggage, tired after unloading the ships; the buzz around seemed not to disturb him.

                Long hours passed before the wind cleared the air enough to allow breathing freely. Only then the elves started looking around and checking what goods they had managed to take from the decks. Unfavorable whispers turned into loud complaints when one elf after another realized how much they had lost. That left the sons of Feanaro in uncomfortable situation when they had to explain their father’s actions, though they too couldn’t see the point of his doings. The atmosphere grew thick, the elves were at the edge of riot.

                Feanaro was the only one who seemed not to care at all for all the goods that had burned on the ships. The seashore wasn’t exactly good and safe place for longer stay, so he ordered to get moving.

                A red, uncombed head of one of the twins appeared from a small tent; Ambarussa, unlike his nephew, couldn’t sleep in all the noise. He stumbled outside, looked around at the older brothers packing their things in silence and stared terrified at their father.

                “Where is my brother?”

The others looked at each other and realized there were only six of them.

                “Father! Ambarto slept on deck!”

                “It seems he wasn’t brave enough for our mission,” Feanaro shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t stop packing, didn’t even look at his youngest child. “His ship was the first to burn.”

                The older sons stared at their father as if at phantom, the younger ones still didn’t comprehend. Curufinwe was first hit by horror of the situation.

                “Where’s my son?” He looked around hectically, terrified that he too could have been on the ships.

                Without a word, Kanafinwe showed him the boy sleeping curled between packages, with his father’s cloak on his head. Curufinwe sighed in relief.

                “You didn’t wake...?” Ambarussa started shaking, tears ran down his cheeks. “You let him...” He didn’t dare to finish, choked with sobs. Kanafinwe, being the closest, grabbed his arm. The youngest jerked, but his brother wouldn’t let go.

                “Enough!” growled Feanaro. “You should have stayed by your mother if you’re going to wail. Quiet! him”

                Ambarussa broke free from Kano’s grip, but Maitimo jumped forward, closed him in strong embrace, pulled back, away from father. Telvo resisted weakly, but then gave up, let Maitimo cuddle him; he barely reached his arm.

                Kano and Tyelko went back to work in surprisingly silent agreement, they busied themselves around Feanaro, asked about some unimportant details, Curufinwe grabbed Moryo, letting Maitimo take care of the youngest. Ambarussa went trustingly with older brother, clinging tightly on his tunic.

                Maitimo exchanged glances with Kanafinwe and the singer nodded, letting him know that they would handle packing. The oldest son of Feanaro led his brother outside the camp; not too far away, as they couldn’t know what was waiting in the darkness, now that the fire died, but enough so Ambarussa could cry freely, away from  their father and everybody else.

                “He killed him, Maitimo,” sobbed the boy, letting his brother hug him closer. “Father’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” he muttered in brother’s arm.

                Maitimo said nothing, consumed by guilt. He had gone away from camp, too agitated to confront himself with father, and when he had gotten back, he hadn’t checked if the youngest brothers were safe. He had seen Curufinwe’s son sleeping and hadn’t bothered to look around for Ambarussa. What could he say? That yes, they were following the madman? That they had left Aman for the idea of freedom, but actually for revenge? It didn’t matter anyway, the Oath was binding them.

                Suddenly Ambarussa broke free, stepped back. He glanced at the camp; Maitimo didn’t like the look he saw.

                “I won’t let you go away.” It wasn’t difficult to guess his younger brother’s intentions.

                “Why?” There was a challenge in those shining eyes, red hair falling on the wet face. “Why should I stay?”

                “Because I won’t lose another brother today.” Maitimo reached and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder; to him, Ambarussa was still a boy.

                “But I don’t...” Telvo stuttered at the idea put in that way. “How can you think I can stay with father after that?”

                “You will stay,” repeated Maitimo firmly. “We can’t afford to split. We don’t know these lands, you can’t know what’s there waiting for you. And father will still be followed,” he pointed out. Maybe less enthusiastically after burning ships, but he had no doubts; if they were to divide, most of the Noldors would follow Feanaro’s charisma.

                “I can’t, Maitimo,” sobbed Ambarussa. “I don’t want to, I can’t bear it,” he kept repeating.

                Maitimo pulled him close, leaned his chin on brother’s hair. They stood there, away from the camp’s noise, until Ambarussa calmed a bit.

                “We need to stick together, little brother,” muttered Maitimo. “There are six of us and I won’t let it be any one less,” he said with all the belief he could find, purposely mentioning only their brothers. “You will go with me, won’t you?” he asked lightly; Ambarussar always kept close to him. Just as he thought about it, grief froze his heart. They had only one now.

                “With you, I will.” Ambarussa nodded gloomily and wiped his eyes.

                “Come, we need to help.” Maitimo turned back to camp. “Just keep away from father,” he ordered.

                The younger brother obeyed. He was to keep close to Maitimo for the next weeks, up to Feanaro’s death. He never exchanged a single word with his father again.

               

 

 


End file.
